


Intergalactic Space Lothario

by NeedMoreCyanInk



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Universe, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Wrestling, gay space teens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7924666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeedMoreCyanInk/pseuds/NeedMoreCyanInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“What the hell are you doing?”<br/>“I panicked."<br/>Keith sighs deeply. He feels funny all over, all jumbled up and lightheaded. His face is so hot. “For once can you not think with your damn libido?” </i>
</p><p>Cabin fever is driving everyone nuts. Keith and Lance wrestle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intergalactic Space Lothario

**Author's Note:**

> YEP I CAVED AND HOPPED ABOARD THE KLANCE TRAIN  
> CHOO-CHOO, WELCOME TO THE GATES OF HELL
> 
> this is your back-to-basics 'frustrated gay teens in space' fic (p sure Lance is a Confirmed Bisexual tho)
> 
> dialogue is so much fun to write. tried to do a bit of character studying, these characters are so interesting and well thought-out and basically great (i hope i did them justice)  
> also make outs
> 
> EDIT: THANKS FOR ALL YOUR LOVELY COMMENTS, GUYS!! srsly, it gives me life. ur all ace

 

 

“Another glorious day in space!” Lance cries, arms outstretched in a yawn, addressing the gathered Paladins of Voltron before him.

“Another delirious gay in space,” comes a scathing reply.

 

Everyone is lazing around on the hexagonal sofa-pit of the ship’s common room, the remains of breakfast left on the floor amongst everyone’s junk: a mixture of personal effects, random alien tech, and various items of clothing are scattered about. Currently the ship feels more like a messy frat house than an ancient space castle. Lance flops down on one of the seats.

 

“Real mature, Pidge,” Lane snorts, throwing a shady glance to the source of the comment. “I’m just trying to get everyone psyched. Loads of Defender-of-the-Universe-y stuff to do today, yeah?”

“Unlikely,” says Pidge, who barely looks up from her screen.

“We’ve been drifting through this sector for _days_. I’m bored out of my mind,” Hunk elaborates. “Starting to wish this place had cable.”

“Coran thinks it won’t be too long before Allura is up and about again,” Shiro mentions, piling some suspicious-looking green gunk into a bowl and passing it to Lance. “We should all make the most of this down-time for now. Here, have some breakfast.”

“The food goo is looking particularly luminescent today,” Lance notes, picking a spork up off the floor and wiping it on his shirt. “Nutritious _and_ delicious…”

“My thoughts exactly,” says Hunk.

 

Keith is judging these interactions from the side-lines, perched on the edge of the sofa-pit. Everyone is acting so… _domestic_ that it almost makes him uncomfortable. It’s not that isn’t great the team are finally getting along with a common goal in mind and everything, but they’ve slipped so quickly into a family dynamic that Keith doesn’t really know where he slots in. It’s not like he’s ever had a real family before. Navigating people is harder than navigating through an asteroid belt.

 

Suddenly disrupting his thoughts, Lance flicks a speck of goo at Keith’s cheek.  This goes largely unnoticed by the others as they chat amongst themselves about the princess’ state of health or something.

 

“’Morning, handsome,” Lance mouths in his direction.

 

And on the subject of people: Lance has been a very confusing person to be around lately. Their relationship has strengthened considerably recently, and they actually make a nicely balanced team when it comes down to it, but it seems like Lance can never quite drop that irritating tendency to attention-seek at every possible opportunity. They still butt heads on a frequent basis, which is fuelled equally by Lance’s inability to shut up (like, ever) and Keith’s exceptionally short temper. Keith swipes the goo from his cheek and flicks it back with a scowl. That’s his problem: he always, always rises to the bait.

 

“So, what’s everyone’s plan for the day?” asks Shiro, crossing his arms and immediately commanding the attention of all present. “Just because it’s a day off doesn’t mean it can’t be productive.”

Pidge shuts down her screen and grins. “Hunk and I are working on the Lions today!”

“Yeah, we’re gonna look into the relationship between Bayard technology and the individual mechanoelectrical response of Voltron’s weaponary systems.”

“The variability and specificity of the response is fascinating, really.”

“It’s cool stuff.”

 

Although appearing slightly baffled by the onslaught of information, Shiro nods in approval.

 

“Good plan. Lance?”

“I was gonna take old Blue out for a spin. Let her stretch her legs a bit, y’know?” Lance says through a mouthful of food.

“Great idea. What about you, Keith?”

“I’m designing some new training sequences with Coran. I completed the old ones,” Keith says coolly.

“Good, that’s something we can all make use of.”

 

Naturally, Lance has to pipe up in order to divert the attention back to himself.

 

“Oh, my name’s Keith and I’m just so unbearably cool that I have to fight robots all day long just to maintain my emotional constipation,” Lance mocks, imitating Keith’s husky tone. Keith’s mood suddenly sours severely and he’s fully prepared to throw a punch, when Pidge snorts a laugh.

“My name’s Lance and I’m so bitterly insecure about my own shortcomings that I resort to childishly mocking my peers,” she retorts flatly in that cutting way she does. Hunk looks like he’s torn between crying for the sake of the sick burn Lance just received and snickering at its accuracy.  

 

“All right, enough,” Shiro says sternly. Controlling bored teens is like herding cats. _Lions?_

“Sorry,” mumbles Pidge. “Being cooped up is frustrating.”

“I get it, I do. But let’s focus on doing some good today, OK? I think we should all pitch in to tidy up the common room. It’s sort of become a dumping ground, guys.”

 

Everyone casts their eyes to the trash on the floor. Needless to say, since Allura has been out of action and Coran otherwise preoccupied with running the ship, their discipline with daily chores has slipped significantly.

 

“Yeah, I kinda get what you mean,” agrees Hunk.

“I didn’t make any of this mess,” Keith protests. “Why should I have to clear it up?”

“Uh, Keith, that’s one of your dumb fingerless gloves right over there,” Lance points out.

“It’s only there because you threw it over there yesterday.”

“I only threw it over there because it’s so dumb.”

“Oh yeah, nice come back, genius.”

“Guys. Chill, OK? There’s no need for this. We’re supposed to be a team,” Shiro cuts in.

“Shiro’s right. It’s better when we’re not at one another’s throats all the time,” Keith says with some restraint.  
  
“Dude, you’re always at my throat.”

“Well it’s hardly my fault that you’re such an easy target.”

“Easy target!? Take that back, Keith!” Lance cries, leaping to his feet and throwing his arms into the air.

Keith takes this as a challenge. “Um, it’s the truth?”

“Is _not_!”

“It is _so_!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I’ll prove it. You. Me. Training deck. _Now_.”

 

Keith and Lance storm out of the room without so much as a glance behind them.

 

“Do you think they orchestrated that to get out of cleaning up?” asks Hunk with a sigh after the figurative dust of their departure has settled.

“I don’t reckon they’re that smart,” Pidge replies, attempting to grabs armfuls of the alien junk that is, admittedly, mostly hers. Shiro gives them a hand.

“I wouldn’t underestimate them. Who knows what’s going on between those two?”

 

**

 

The training deck is a dauntingly large, white room with a circle of soft padding in the centre. Keith and Lance march towards it, throwing vague threats at one another. Despite himself, Keith feels pretty pumped about putting Lance in his place.

 

“How’re we settlin’ this then, huh?” Lance taunts, jumping up and down to warm himself up.

“Hand-to-hand combat.” Keith stretches a little before removing his jacket and flinging it to one side.

“Fine, easy-peasy. Lemon squeezy. Keith is gonna be begging on his knees-y.”

“Shut up.”

“Shouldn’t we like, have a referee?”

“You mean someone to show off to?”

“No! I don’t need to show off to anyone, my natural talent shines through… naturally.”

“Sure,” Keith says, cracking his knuckles with a grin. Lance looks like he’s starting to lose his nerve already. Shouldn’t start something he can’t finish. “First to the ground loses.”

“You’re going down, son.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

 

Keith tackles Lance head-on without warning, very nearly taking him down in one, but Lance’s gangly body somehow manages to stand its ground.

 

“Wha- Hey! You didn’t even say ‘go’!”

 

Lance is by no means an incompetent fighter but Keith simply has the upper hand: his martial arts expertise leaves them slightly mismatched in a spar but the sooner Lance learns his lesson the better. Keith waits until Lance lunges at him before catching him off-balance, flipping him onto the ground and swiftly pinning his arms above his head.

 

“I told you: easy target,” Keith grunts, sitting heavily on Lance’s chest with one knee. He thinks he’s demonstrated his point effectively enough, but Lance is never one to back down.

“That’s totally unfair!” Lance says, winded but somehow _still_ talking. “I wasn’t ready and besides – you chose hand-to-hand ‘cus you knew you’d win, we need a fairer method of comparing our prowess-”

 

Keith cuts him off with an exasperated growl.

 

“Ugh! Why can you never let things go? Why are you always so hung up on this stupid rivalry we supposedly have?”

“Whoa, OK. No need to throw a tantrum – you won, dude.”

“Are you _that_ needy for attention?!”

“You can get off me now!” Lance is running quickly out of air but Keith inadvertently digs his knee harder into Lance’s sternum and tightens his white-knuckle grip on his wrists.

“Are you really _so_ desperate for approval? Stop trying to force a rift in this team just so you can show off to Allura or Shiro or whoever. I can’t help it if I’m better than you at some stuff!”

“Keith, you’re killing me,” Lance wheezes.

“I just want to be your team mate!”

“Keith, please.”

“I just want to be your fr-”

 

This is when Lance decides to kiss him. At least he thinks it’s a kiss. Keith has never been kissed before, but he’s certain the squidge of Lance’s lips into his face constitutes as a kiss and he can’t believe his first kiss is with _Lance_ of all people, not that it matters. His brain appears to short circuit, and he drops the rant.

 

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I panicked.”

Keith sighs deeply. He feels funny all over, all jumbled up and lightheaded. His face is so hot. “For once can you not think with your damn libido?” he mutters, finally tumbling off of Lance, who proceeds to sit up and gasp for air.

“You nearly _killed_ me!”

“So you _kissed_ me?”

 

Lance shrugs and looks sheepish.

 

“You were getting, like, super intense and in-my-face, dude.”

“ _On the mouth!_ ”

“I knew I’d be too much man for you to handle, so you’d get off me.” Lance gives Keith a devilish grin to accompany the shamelessly obvious bravado. “Besides, weren’t you just a little bit into it?”

“Contrary to belief, not everyone is in love with you, Lance.”

“Yeah, well how come you’re blushing so much, huh?” He tries to sound slick but the wobble in his voice knocks his cool-factor several notches.

 

Keith hadn’t realised he was so visibly flushed. Truth is, he didn’t even mind the kiss that much. It wasn’t spectacular or anything, but it was kinda tender for something that Lance’s oxygen-deprived brain had come up with. He tries to shrug it off but it doesn’t work. It sticks in the front of his brain until it’s all he can think about and he’s absently watching Lance’s mouth dart around his face as he rambles on about how he’s an _Intergalactic Space Lothario_ and how all the alien chicks are basically falling over themselves to be with him or whatever. Keith wants to interject that the only ‘alien chick’ he’s ever interacted with tied him to a tree then left him for dead, but he can’t say anything because he’s too busy imagining shutting Lance’s squirmy mouth up by kissing him again. He sorta hates himself for thinking about it. But then there’s no harm in just _thinking_ about it, right? Saying that, it’s taking all his self-control to not tackle Lance and pin him back to the ground, and then…

 

Man, all this pent-up frustration is _not_ healthy.

 

When Keith gets frustrated (which is often, and easily), he’s usually perfectly content to unleash his undying fury on whatever unsuspecting training dummy or Galra drone happens to be in his path. But _this_ is a whole new _level_ of frustrated. Being cooped up in this crazy castle-ship and having to live in such close proximity with six other people, with whom he’s shared life-or-death experiences, is too intense. It does weird things to one’s psyche. Isolating himself entirely would be ideal, he’s been doing _that_ all his life and he’s fine to be alone. But he doesn’t have that option anymore… There are people around him that he’s been forced into having deep connections with. And here’s Lance, the guy he shares the weirdest, most antagonistically brotherly bond with, and all he can think about is _kissing_ him and what his skin would feel like and what the heat of his body would feel like, and it’s driving him nuts. Is this…? Oh, no. Is this _sexual_ frustration?

 

“We should wrestle,” Keith blurts out. Lance stops mid-sentence then arches his eyebrow in that overly-expressive way he does.

“You’re on.”

 

Keith and Lance proceed to wrestle: it’s is all knees and elbows, basically, since Lance has learnt how to play dirty thanks to growing up with numerous siblings. Keith is mildly concerned that there is going to be biting involved, which is something he is not prepared to deal with. Still, it’s a struggle and there is a great deal of grunting and panting, which Keith finds really doesn’t help the release of his maybe-sexual frustration. Keith doesn’t hold back but Lance is better at wrestling than he is at martial arts so they’re more or less on equal ground. They scrap at each other, rolling and grabbing and pushing and doing anything to one-up each other. Lance is spitting out brainless insults as if it would distract Keith but he thinks, rather dangerously, that the only thing Lance would need to do to throw him off would be to relax underneath him and sigh softly and maybe touch his face, gently, gently, _touch me, please touch me-_

“Shut up, shut up!” He shoves the heel of his hand into Lance’s jaw to rid himself of the thought.

“Watch it, you animal, I nearly bit my tongue off.”

“Good, then maybe you’d can it for once.”

“You’re such a bastard, Keith. You gotta-” Lance goes for a pin but Keith bucks his hips hard which tosses Lance into an awkward heap, making him vulnerable to a counter. “Gotta work on your anger issues, man.”

 

With a mighty heave, Keith aggressively slaps Lance’s back to the ground and clamps him down with knees either side of his waist. Lance takes the fall pretty hard but he should count himself lucky that Keith is one of the lighter members of Team Voltron: if Shiro or Hunk were sat this heavily on his stomach he’d probably vomit from the weight of it. Speaking of which, Keith is on the verge of vomiting up breakfast himself, due in part to the rough and tumble, and part to a gross combination of rage and desperation he’s feeling in the pit of his stomach. Keith draws a long, sharp breath to steady himself, and presses his palms flat into Lance’s shoulders in an attempt keep them down. The match is over anyway.

 

“I win.”

“OK, but you’re still a jerk.”

“ _I’m_ a jerk-?! Why are you like this, Lance?  It’s like you’re just saying all this crap just to get a rise out of me.”

Lance flinches at Keith’s harsh tone. “Maybe I am, OK? I can’t help it.”

“But why?”

“Oh, I dunno! Because you’re smart and cool and mysterious and impressive and the best damn pilot in the galaxy or whatever. And what am I? I’m _average_ at bes-”

“I can’t help that I’m a better pilot than you!” Keith cries, grappling at Lance’s flailing arms to avoid being jabbed by his killer elbows.

“See?! And you’re always such an ass about it and you don’t even realise that you’re being an ass but then I get all the blame for provoking you ‘cus everyone knows you’ve got all the social grace of a teaspoon.”

“I think you’re taking your insecurities out on me, Lance.”

“I think you’re taking your anger out on me, _Keith_.”

“I am _not_!”

“ _Yeah_ , you _are_!

“Why can’t you ever just _shut up_?”

“Why can’t you ever just- Hey!”

 

Lance is cut short by a hand shooting to his neck and squeezing hard. He makes an awful gagging sound and it isn’t until he’s writhing around, eyes bulging, that Keith realises he’s started to choke him out. Keith immediately releases his hold, slightly horrified.

 

“Lance, I… I didn’t mean to-”

“Jeez, what is _with_ you today?” Lance rasps. “Like, I get it that everyone is restless but talk about pent-up rage?”

“Pent-up _something_ ,” Keith mutters under his breath, all too aware of the heat between them. His heart rate is going nuts. He feels so damn nervous he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Lance is glaring up at him with this stupid expression on his face and he’s never wanted to simultaneously kiss and throttle someone so much in his entire life. Lance huffs in defeat.

“Look, I’m only acting out ‘cus… I want you to pay attention to me, I guess? I dunno. It’s dumb.”

“You’re dumb…”

“ _You’re_ dumb! I’m trying to be real with you now, man.”

“Ugh! I can’t handle all of these… _feelings_ and crap.” It’s disgustingly hard to express how difficult Keith is finding human relationships. “You do weird things to me, Lance. I can’t handle it.”

Lance narrows his eyes. “Weird things like how?”

 

Crap. Keith internally begs him not to crack a flirtatious joke and, by all the grace of the universe, he doesn’t.

 

“Weird things, like… no, never mind.”

 

An unwelcome lump in Keith’s throat stops him from saying anything else but Lance carefully holds his gaze. Realisation dawns on Lance’s face, an expression squirming between smugness and disbelief.

 

“Wait. Whoa. Was this whole wrestling thing just a ploy to get me to kiss you again or something?”

Keith looks away. Rumbled. “What’s your point?”

“It’s totally OK if you’re in love with me, man. _I’d_ be in love with me, if I wasn’t… already… myself.”

“You _are_ in love with you,” Keith says flatly.

“Probably for a good reason,” Lance murmurs, but he’s hardly paying attention to what he’s saying anymore because Keith is leaning gingerly down towards his face, forearm braced on the floor next to his head, the other hand still resting on his windpipe. Lance swallows so hard that Keith can feel the movement of his neck underneath his thumb.

“Probably.”

 

Keith dips his head with the intention to reciprocate the tender peck from earlier but Lance tilts his chin to meet Keith’s lips in a full kiss.

 

“Oh,” Keith says gently.

“S’this OK?”

“Yeah. Yeah it’s OK.”

 

He feels Lance’s mouth slide against his and he copies the action carefully, afraid to admit that he actually has no idea what he’s doing. Lance’s sweaty fingers are clutching his jaw so he can press the kiss closer and it makes tingles zip up Keith’s belly.

 

They roll over together, which leaves Keith lying flat and trapped underneath Lance’s lanky frame. He’s never felt so vulnerable in his entire life. It would be so easy for Lance to give up the ruse and pin Keith down and declare that HE WINS AT WRESTLING, and it would be such a painful betrayal that Keith is almost too scared to relax his muscles in case he needs to fight back. But Lance is pushing his fingers through Keith’s hair at the nape of his neck and making soft, throaty noises which make Keith’s belly flip and he realises it’s fine and he is fine and this is real. And it’s not like he’s in love or anything but they’re…

 

_Bonding?_

 

“Are we bonding?” he mumbles through kisses.

“I think we’re, like, super-bonding.”

 

Keith is getting so sweaty in his t-shirt. The heat of his face is nearly unbearable, the inside of his mouth feels tacky and dry, and there’s a nervous trembling in his gut. The crazy thing is, though, he definitely doesn’t want it to stop anytime soon and he tries his best to communicate this by clutching onto Lance’s forearm so hard it must be starting to hurt. Lance has such a warm body. Keith curses Lance’s stupid shirt because he has a desperate impulse to feel what his skin is like underneath the cotton but is far too embarrassed to do anything except stay kinda still and cling to Lance’s arm. However, Lance is never one stay still for too long: he’s squirming all over, jutting his bony hips into Keith, tugging at Keith’s hair with one hand and sliding the other up Keith’s ribs. Before he knows it, Lance is kissing all down his jawline and neck, followed by a sharp pinch that makes him gasp out loud.

 

“Ow! What… what’re you doing?”

“Hickey.” Lance sniggers and it tickles Keith’s neck and ear, sending shivers across his skin. Is Lance actually biting him? He’s… _sucking_ at his collarbone? Keith lets out a shaky sigh.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Revenge for trying to kill me, _amigo_.”

“I didn’t even- Ah!” Keith tips his head back and his breath hitches in his chest. No-one’s ever touched him in this way before. Everyone quips about Lance’s glaring virginity (despite his protests otherwise), but it’s painfully clear just how inexperienced Keith is in comparison.

 

“You OK?” Lance asks breathlessly.

“Yeah.”

 

Washed with an uncomfortable wave of powerlessness, Keith feels compelled to flip the dynamic again so he pushes Lance onto his back, breaking the connection at his neck. Lance lets out a breathy laugh and his flushed cheeks and parted lips is a sight that makes Keith slightly dizzy. How did they go so seamlessly from sparring and hurling gibes to… _making out on the floor?_ The worst part is, it actually feels kinda _nice._

 

“You’re actually not terrible at this,” Keith says, attempting to keep his tone airy but wobbling when Lance wets his bottom lip with his tongue.

“Hey, is that a genuine complement I hear?”

“Don’t get used to it.” He kisses Lance clumsily, bumping their noses together in the process.

“Watch it, buddy.”

“Sorry, _buddy,_ ” Keith teases, kissing Lance tentatively on the nose. It feels grossly affectionate but Lance seems to revel in it. Of course he would.

“Here.” Lance takes Keith’s hand and makes him rest it on his cheek. “It’s easier like that.”

“Mm’kay,” Keith mumbles into Lance’s lips.

 

Under normal circumstances, Keith would be perfectly content to blank Lance and ignore his advice completely. But for once he complies, clutching Lance’s face carefully, and they kiss each other until they’re out of breath.

 

 

Eventually they fall apart and sit up, not quite facing one another. All of Keith’s limbs feel helplessly weak as if he were in a zero-g free fall but his heart is beating a thousand times faster than it ever would if they were flying. He can’t speak even if he wanted to, and he certainly doesn’t want to because the thought of facing Lance right now after letting himself become so vulnerable in front of him is nauseating. At least this is what he thinks until Lance fumbles for his hand to hold and it’s such a childish action that Keith’s silly humiliation at the whole ordeal is amped up several notches.

 

“So, like…”

 

Ah, good. They’re going to Talk About It.

 

“That was weird,” Lance continues nervously, trying to fill in every gap of awkward silence just like always.

“Super weird.”

“Like, good weird?”

“I think so? Yeah. I think so.”

 

Keith nods. He runs his free hand nervously through his hair at the back where Lance’s fingers were just a minute ago. He can’t look him in the eye, even though he’s certain they’re both blushing furiously like little kids. As much as they pretend they’re all grown up – ridding the universe of evil etc., etc. – they’re still stupid, sweaty, clumsy teenagers after all. Lance elbows him gently.

 

“We totally just made out.”

“Don’t be so blasé about it.”

“You’re embarrassed.”

“You’re embarrass _ing_.”

“It was kinda nice, actually?” Lance says. He absentmindedly plays with Keith’s palm, tracing patterns on his skin with his fingertip. Keith is trying not to smile and it feels like his lips are going to split because they’re all sore from saliva and friction but it’s oddly comforting, in a way. “You kiss like a girl though.”

“That’s a pathetic insult. Besides…” This is gonna sound so childish, Keith thinks, but the implications of his question are heavy. “I thought you liked girls?”

 

There’s a painful pause where Lance contemplates his answer.

 

“I love girls. I _love girls_ , don’t get me wrong,” Lance says, and for some reason it sort of bites when he says it. “But dude, I don’t care if you’re a girl or not. Hunk was crushing major hard on that rock lady and I nearly got it on with a crazy space babe if she totally hadn’t broken my heart, and they’re not even _human._ Anyway, I’ve always kinda had crushes, on like… guys, I guess. I mean… Shiro?”

“Shiro, uh-huh,” Keith agrees immediately. Being vaguely attracted to Shiro is a universal experience.

“So, like, maybe this is OK? The truth is,” Lance says quietly, putting his hand on Keith’s wrist so gently that it makes Keith’s insides twang. “I’ve never actually been all that lucky in love before. The whole _ladies’ man_ thing, it’s kind of all an act, I guess.”

“Well, this is a revelation that surprises absolutely no-one.”

“Shut up, the point is – despite that, this whole thing – whatever it is, you and me or whatever… With so much crazy Paladin stuff going on, this actually feels kinda normal, y’know? Like we’re back home.”

 

Lance is smiling softly at him with that genuine look in his eyes that Keith has only ever seen once or twice before now. It makes his chest ache in ways he can’t even begin to explain.

 

“I suppose I don’t really relate to that,” Keith admits gingerly. “This ‘whole thing’. It’s… all still pretty alien to me.”

“What, you’ve never, like, made out with anyone before?”

“I guess not.”

“Keith The Hot-Shot Badass never kissed anybody?!”

“Why’ve you gotta make everything into a competition, you moron?” Keith grumbles. Beautiful moment ruined.

“I guess I should wine and dine you, nunvill and food goo under the light of a thousand Galra battleships?” Lance makes some grand, corny hand gesture then waggles his eyebrows. “Since I am your first and all.”

“How about you shut up for a bit and we can kiss again.”

 

Keith can hardly believe he’s said the words so boldly but Lance turns a violent shade of red and that gives Keith a deep sense of satisfaction. He tugs Lance eagerly by the shirt until their mouths are nearly touching.

 

“So impatient,” Lance murmurs. “At least you’re pretty.”

“What?” Keith snorts.

“Pretty stupid, I mean.”

“At least I’m not ugly, then.”

“Hey, _I’m_ gorgeous!”

“Deluded, more like.”

 

They kiss and it’s long and slow and deep. This feels so intimate, invasive almost. The brash bravado from earlier is gone in an instant and, instead of the outer shell Lance projects to everyone, it feels like Keith has touched upon the tender inner surface of the Real Lance hidden just beneath. Maybe Lance is feeling the same way about him? He supposes the mutual vulnerability of the situation makes him feel a little less insecure.

 

They slowly break from each other and Lance pulls away when he notices the reddish purple mark blooming on Keith’s collar bone.

 

“Whoa, dude! Killer bruise!”

“Oh, man.” Keith strains for a look. “What are the others going to think?”

“Uh, that I’m not such an easy target after all?”

 

Keith shoves him with his shoulder. He gets the vague feeling that Lance is never, ever going to let the dumb rivalry die even with this strange new development in their relationship. People are confusing. _Lance_ is confusing, especially – but Keith thinks he’s maybe, maybe starting to figure him out.

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Keith says, grappling at Lance’s arms in an attempt to knock him on his back. Lance grins his stupid grin before planting his lips smartly into Keith’s cheek. Keith throws him a look. “Dude.”

 

“You’re into it. Told you I’m an Intergalactic Space Lothario.”

“You’re an Intergalactic Space _Loser_.”

“You’re still into it.”

 

He kinda is.

**Author's Note:**

> this show is great, i watched the whole series twice because cartoons are better than real life  
> IF YOU AGREE YOU CAN BE MY FRIEND: thewolfymongoose.tumblr.com
> 
> if you thought this fic was fun, drop me a comment. i need validation


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